“Not quite nightmares,” I admitted. “Just...things I shouldn’t be dreaming about.”
Pick understood immediately. His eyes sharpened as he lifted an eyebrow. “Or people you shouldn’t be dreaming about?”
My face heated, and I wanted to fist my hand and hit something: a wall, the table, myself. I hated not being able to keep a straight face. Blushing had to be the freaking bane of my existence.
With a chuckle, Pick slapped me companionably on the back. Then he called across the bar to where Asher was sweeping up something from underneath a table in the corner. “Hey, Hart. You ever dream about a woman you shouldn’t?”
Asher glanced up, looking surprised to be singled out. But then he grinned and shrugged. “I dreamt about your woman last week. She went down on me while I was singing on stage, and man...she had a sweet mouth.”
My jaw fell open. I couldn’t believe he’d so readily admitted such a thing...and to Pick’s face. But Pick just chuckled and grinned approvingly. “Hell, yes she does.”
I glanced between him and Asher, wondering why he wasn’t more upset.
“I can do one better than that,” Ten spoke up. “I had a dream once of Pick’s woman going down on Lowe’s woman.”
Mason popped up from behind the bar to scowl at him, but Ten just lifted his eyebrows in challenge. “What? They may be cousins, but as close as those two are, you know they’ve at least kissed before.”
Mason and Pick exchanged a knowing glance, to which Ten went crazy. “Holy shit, they have, haven’t they? Fucking awesome. Did you guys watch?”
“We’re not saying anything,” Pick said, only to let out a huge grin.
“Well, hell,” Noel spoke up from behind the bar. “Now I’m going to dream about those two ganging up on Aspen and going down on her.”
As the guys laughed and started mixing and matching up which one of their women would star in their next wet dream, I shook my head. “So all of you have dreamed about...threesomes?”
Everyone stopped talking to stare at me as if I was insane. “We’re guys,” Mason finally answered. “So...yeah. Pretty much. Why wouldn’t we?”
I blushed, not knowing how to answer that. I’d never had one of those dreams until this week. I had no idea they were supposed to be normal?
“Damn, it must’ve sucked growing up homeschooled by your widowed grandma,” Noel murmured, sympathy ruling his gaze as he studied me.
I shook my head, because no, it hadn’t. I’d loved my grandmother desperately. Finally being able to live with her after my mother had died had been a saving grace. I didn’t even mind much that it left me socially clueless so much of the time. Gran had done the best she could for me, and I’d be eternally gratefully for that.
“I’m surprised you haven’t picked up more shit from listening in on all that raunchy locker room gossip you must hear,” Pick mused.
“I don’t spend much time in the locker room.” I hated changing in front of people because someone always asked about my scars, so I typically rushed to get in and out.
“Well, anyhow,” Pick went on. “I wouldn’t sweat about any dream you have. I’ve had some crazy-ass dreams that don’t mean shit. Okay, bud?”
I nodded, and strangely enough, I felt better. Listening to the guys openly admit to having thoughts about other women while over half of them were in committed, faithful, monogamous relationships let me know I wasn’t as awful or alone as I thought. I was just a typical, flawed human.
Once again, I couldn’t sleep. Awake at two in the morning, I sat up in bed, turned on a night-light and began to write. I was quickly coming to realize the stories I wrote in the middle of the night were some of the craziest yet most colorful and eventful ideas I’d ever come up with.
So, I made me some hot chocolate and went to town. But as hot chocolate was wont to do, it went straight through me, so I had to pee before I could finish the last page of my short story.
My mind was elsewhere as I flushed, already planning out the final paragraphs. I didn’t even realize the water was overflowing until I was washing my hands and cold wet toilet water crept in over my toes.
Yelping out a startled scream, I jumped back and gaped in horror as it kept flowing over the toilet seat.
“Oh my God. No!” I leapt forward, not sure what to do, but the water didn’t stop flowing. Thinking there had to be a shut-off valve somewhere nearby, I peered behind the tank and tried to ignore the ick factor of more water covering my feet.
